


City of the sinful

by nihilisten



Category: Ghost (1990)
Genre: F/M, First Meeting, I didn't like the story but the subway ghost kicks ass???, and he was handsome in the musical in my country
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 06:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11179170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nihilisten/pseuds/nihilisten
Summary: The newcomers are always trouble.





	City of the sinful

The train slowly made its way out of the station, leaving dark corridors in utter silence.

As it slowly faded to black, the ghost sat there, fiddling with the can of cola. The tinned object made cracking sounds that echoed in the empty station.  _Crack_ ,  _crack_ ,  _crack_. He threw it to the side, letting a grunt escape his spectral lips.

What he didn’t expect was that the can didn’t fall to the ground, and hovered over it instead.

He reacted immediately.

“Who’s there?!” he barked, trying to see in the dark. Whoever caught the can, certainly wasn’t human—wasn’t  _alive_.

There was no response but silence, and the ghost felt both irritated and uneasy at the same time. He most certainly didn’t feel like explaining the simplest things to idiots again, like he did to that stubborn asshole from before—but the ‘person’ opposite him seemed to need no explanation. They could lift a can as easily as a living human. And more importantly, they  _surprised_  him.

“Answer me, I’m warning you,” he tried again, and this time something like a sigh was audible. After a few seconds, a faded form appeared in the darkness before his eyes.

“I seek no trouble…”

Their voice was hardly audible, sounding rather weak and docile. The subway ghost frowned, unsure what to make of it. His ‘guest’ slowly started resembling a human, and he was shocked to see it was a  _she_.

She stood there, a can in her transparent hand and a disturbed look on her face. If it’s true what they say about ghosts taking after the ways they died, then she must have had her head blown or something, because she lacked… well… the back of it. It probably would recover after a few days, but still; there was something weird in her, even for a dead soul. And the subway ghost couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

After five very long seconds, she raised her eyes on him for the first time, and he flinched.

“Whatddya want?” huffing, he took a step back. “It’s  _my_  station. Get out of here, now.”

She shook her head with a somewhat sorrow face. “I can’t.”

“What do you mean, you can’t? How’d you got here?”

She sighed again, and he felt himself shuddering subconsciously.

“Can you, then?”

It took him a while before he realised the questions was directed at him.

“What?”

“Can you leave this station?”

“Of course I can’t, you idiot,” he grunted. “I died here.”

“Did you jump?” the female ghost inquired, and he felt himself utterly unable to resist.

“I didn’t jump. They pushed me, got it?”

She nodded in agreement, but for some reason it felt like she didn’t believe him at all—or more like she nodded at something completely unrelated.

“I can’t remember how exactly I died,” she uttered and then went silent, looking down to the floor. The subway ghost allowed his gaze to shift over her form, when it struck him.

“So you’re new, huh?” he stepped closer to her, finally earning a slightly scared reaction from her. He savoured it for a while. It felt awesome when they feared him. “But how can you lift things if you’re new?”

“Huh?” she didn’t seem to understand. “Lift… things?”

“Like that can. It’s not like every dead imbecile can do that, y’know.”

As if wanting to emphasise his words, he stretched his arm towards the vending machine, which exploded in an instant, shattered glass flying in the air. The female ghost jumped in surprise, eyes wide. He laughed.

“So you didn’t even realise you caught the can? Dear Lord, what blissfulness,” waving his hand, he plopped down on the bench. She just stood there, still trying to process what just happened.

He observed her as she slowly made her way to the broken vending machine, examining it thoroughly, finally taking another can out of it and raising it with ease. She didn’t look like she even  _thought_  about touching material objects. She simply did that—and it was somewhat terrifying.

After a while, she turned back to the subway ghost, misery never leaving her expression.

“I see,” she mumbled. “I have no idea why I can do this.”

“Well, neither have I,” he shrugged, pointing at the drink. “But none of us can taste it. Or anything, for that matter.”

“I figured that much.”

“No offense, then.”

Her lips curled upwards in an almost imperceptible manner. There was a brief moment of silence before she approached the bench. Sitting beside him, she allowed the faint smile on her lips disappear completely.

“What should I do now?” she sighed yet again. “I have no idea who I was, how I died, why I died. I don’t even know my name. Was it the same for you?”

The subway ghost kept quiet for a while, thinking of what words to choose next.

“Nah, not really. But I guess I was just too remorseful for that,” he laughed bitterly.

“You wish you hadn’t died?”

He shrugged, not bothering to explain how he really felt—mostly because he didn’t understand himself. The female ghost nodded her head as if in comprehension, pain written all over her face.

“So… does that mean my life meant nothing if I can’t even remember it? Was it useless?” her voice trembled.

”I’m pretty sure there’s a reason to why you lost your memory,” the subway ghost muttered, eyes fixed on the dirty ceiling above. “This world has its own rules, and even I don’t know all of them. You’ll probably recall everything, sooner or later.”

“I see…”

There was a long silence as she blinked her tears away. Then, letting out a heavy sigh, she stood up, ready to leave.

However—before she could even take a step, he spoke up.

“Hey.”

She stopped to look at him, and in that exact moment, when their eyes met, a train made its way to the station, breaking the silence with a loud, continued rumble. The female ghost’s hair flowed with the wind it created, despite not even being physical—but it was no less real that the people on the train.

The subway ghost pointed forwards as he stood up, walking past his newly met companion.

“This is my train. Come find me if you need me.”

He jumped inside and disappeared into the darkness.


End file.
